


Long Time Coming

by fields_of_clover



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 20:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fields_of_clover/pseuds/fields_of_clover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are both besotted, but blind, idiots, who love one another and torture themselves... and more recently each other.</p>
<p>Misguided and raunchy, they'll try to find what works for both of them.</p>
<p>(Short chapters w/frequent updates)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It may have started with an innocent enough peck on the lips in the kitchen of their shared flat, but it had evolved into something much more sinful, all slick tongues and nibbling teeth, roaming hands and sighing breaths.

They kissed, pressing their bodies together deliciously, but when she reached for the buttons on his shirt, he broke away, "Jemma... We... We need to stop."

She looked up at him, all flushed cheeks, swollen mouth and passion-clouded eyes, but then his words broke through her desirous haze, and it was like ice water crashing through her veins.

She looked to the floor and mentally pulled herself together, raising her face only when she could manage what would pass for polite smile. Then she nodded, and made her escape, fleeing to her bedroom.

She heard him leave their flat several minutes later, his destination unknown to her, not that it mattered. 

He didn't want her. He'd made that pretty clear, and she was through waiting around for him.

She pep-talked herself.

(Jemma Simmons, you are not weak. You need to get your shit together. Dress like you own it, get out there, and get what you want.)

It wouldn't be love, but she could fool herself long enough for the endorphins to flood her system, and make her forget that her best friend of the past eight years didn't return her feelings.

It's not like either one of them was celibate, but she was recently going through a self-imposed dry spell, not really interested in the bullshit that accompanied normal dating, and secretly hoping that he'd see her single-status as just the opening he needed to take their relationship to the next level.

But, that hadn't happened.

She gritted her teeth, thinking of the nights she had listened to his activities across the hall with partners unknown.

Fuck him. Everyone else seemed to be. 

And she was done pining.

It was time to climb out of her self-made hole of loathing insecurity, and get herself thoroughly fucked... hard.

She got ready to go out for the evening, taking her time to get everything right. She knew that she was dressing with him in mind, finding something that would shock and impress him, but it didn't matter. 

It would work for where she was headed, serve the purpose of attracting just what she needed... dick.

She wore her black satin dress, the one with the perfect sweetheart neckline and the almost-too-short hemline, and she paired it with her sky high, black velvet, fuck-me pumps with the blood red soles.

Jemma, always one to go the extra mile, wore a positively filthy combination underneath, a red satin, boned corset with garter straps hooked onto her back-seam black silk thigh highs, and some matching low-cut, red satin tanga panties.

She wore dark, smudged eye make-up and natural lip gloss, and her hair was loose and curly around her shoulders, tousled, an invitation for someone to run their fingers through its softness.

There was no ambiguity about what she was seeking out tonight.

She wanted to feel wanted. It was as simple as that, and she was most definitely not coming home alone, not again.

She needed someone to scratch her itch, and satisfy her in a way she hadn't been able to accomplish on her own for months... four excruciatingly long and lonely, battery-powered months.

She wanted him, but if he didn't want her back, she was going to find a well-formed symmetrical Neanderthal to boss around for the evening, one that would follow her instructions and fuck her exactly how she wanted.

And Fitz?

He could go to hell, preferably after hearing her scream out someone else's name, during an immensely fabulous orgasm.


	2. Chapter 2

"Fuck, Jemma!"

She turned on her stool with her glass of Glenlivet, and smiled at her friend, "That is the general idea, Skye."

Skye laughed, eyeing the bare skin and garter belt strap that peeked out between her stockings and the hem of her dress, where Jemma's right thigh was crossed over her left, "I don't think we're going to have any problem finding someone to help you with that, Black Widow."

Jemma smiled, and downed the rest of her drink, "Good... Let's find my prey."

______

 

He saw her across the bar, but she hadn't seen him.

She looked fucking amazing.

Why did his best friend have to be so unbearably sexy?

He could tell by her attire, her mannerisms, and her posture that her stretch of celibacy was coming to an orgasmic end tonight, and he silently cringed at the thought of another man's hands sliding over her body, another man's cock buried deeply inside her.

He cursed himself, for stopping her earlier, but he just couldn't do it.

He couldn't be the one-night shag, she used to clear her pipes.

Did she think he could wake up and return to being her best friend afterwards?

Not fucking likely.

He was bloody cursed.

He wanted more than whatever the hell it was she'd been offering up earlier.

He wouldn't sleep with her... because... he loved her...

How fucking pathetic was that?

She was dressed to kill, and men were definitely congesting their side of the bar, pressing in tight, just looking for an opening to talk to her and Skye.

He could hear her husky laugh, and Skye's loud chuckles as the girls fielded the questions of their many suitors, before Skye dragged her out onto the dance floor, temporarily escaping the masses.

When they returned, they chose to sit at a high table to the left of the bar, and he watched man after man attempt, and fail, to get into her knickers.

Just when he was beginning to think she wouldn't find an adequate specimen to take home, and happily started drinking himself into oblivion, he saw tall, dark, handsome, adonis Grant Ward move in, and he sighed in defeat.

Mother-Fucker.

Of course, Fitz had recognized Ward immediately. They had, after all, attended university together, and sometimes back then, Ward had attended the same social functions as them, him and Skye and Jemma.

"Jemma Simmons," Ward purred, rubbing his thigh warmly against hers, as he leaned in to address her.

She tipped her head back, raised an eyebrow, and smiled seductively, "Well, well... Grant Ward... How have you been?"

Then, she crossed her legs, and Fitz choked a bit on his scotch, burning his throat, when he caught a glimpse of what Skye had seen earlier, the pale smooth flesh exposed above the lace edge of her stockings, and the straps that disappeared under her dress, securing them on her milky thighs.

"Can't complain," Ward responded, tilting his head, and boldly looking her up and down.

Then, they rambled through the traditional small talk, "You're a biologist, right?"

"Biochemist... You remembered... almost," She commented smiling, "Cop?"

"Detective," he admitted, shifting his jacket enough that she could see his badge clipped to his belt, and glimpse just a bit of the leather shoulder holster along his clavicle.

"Very nice," she purred, leaning forward a bit.

And... There it was... The nod... The nod that indicated that Jemma'd made her choice, and would be climbing Ward like a jungle-gym later... loudly, if her past exploits were anything to go by.

Then, Ward stretched even taller, if possible, and dismissed her following of potential suitors with a simple, imposing look that made Skye giggle outright.

"Jemma, honey, why don't we find ourselves some privacy... to talk, and then... maybe... go to your place and catch up?"

Her eyes sparkled, then she sat down her glass, picked up her clutch, and slid off of her chair.

"I'll tell you what... You get us a table... far-far away from the bar... in a dark, private corner. Grab me another Glenlivet, neat, and I will find you after I've powdered my nose."

Grant smirked and nodded, then watched her walk away, openly appreciating the view of her swaying posterior, and after she disappeared, he approached the bar, hailed the bar tender, and purchased Jemma's preferred drink, suavely providing another drink for Skye as well.

Then, he led Skye to a cozy table in a darkened corner of the upscale club, where they talked amicably about university, and patiently awaited Jemma's return.


	3. Chapter 3

Watching Jemma easily ensnaring men had taken him to a dark, lusty place, and he metaphorically hit the wall.

He was semi-drunk, and he needed to get laid, preferably sooner, rather than later. 

Tonight. No, right now. Right now would be pretty God damned perfect.

He never had any problem getting female attention.

He may have been slight, but he was attractive, and women loved his accent, so he couldn't complain. 

And he usually had his choice of women, when he was out. But, if he wasn't going leave the club alone tonight, he needed to stop pining over Jemma, and start looking around.

He started a conversation with four women herded in around him at the bar, and eventually he extracted a tiny blond from their horde.

She didn't seem overly intelligent, but she was friendly, and she was stacked, and she was practically begging to ride his cock.

Yep, she'd do just fine.

______

 

He stripped her bare, and urged her onto his bed, taking a moment to discard his remaining clothing, before joining her there.

He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she tasted wrong, all sugar and fruit, and not a bit like single malt scotch, but he'd make it through. He had a good imagination, and there were plenty of other things to taste on her body, that would be oh-so-right, so he started at her neck and worked his way down from there.

By the time his face was buried between her thighs, he was pretending she was Jemma anyway, so forgetting her name was of little consequence.

He made her come with his mouth, then again with his tongue and hands, and she showed her appreciation by sloppily bobbing up and down on his cock, messily working him over.

He was balls deep in What's-Her-Name's throat, when he heard Jemma's key in the lock and the murmur of voices from the common area of their flat, one of them Jemma's and the other distinctly male, presumably Ward.

He knew she could do whatever she wanted with whomever she chose, but he refused to listen to their bull-shit small talk while they worked their way up to actually ripping each other's clothes off.

Frustrated and disgusted, he pulled the blond off of his cock, and rolled her to her back, then he slid down the bed, and licked her pussy until she squealed loud enough to drown out the voices in the other room.

______

 

Ward raised his head from where he was feasting on her throat, in response to the noise, "Room mate?"

"Fitz... Ignore it," she said, stepping back in the entry way, releasing the hidden zip under her arm, then swaying back and forth until her dress cleared her hips and slid to the floor.

When he saw her lingerie his jaw dropped for a moment, "Fucking hell, Jemma... Don't you look good enough to eat?"

She tilted her head and smirked, "God, I hope so..."

He chuckled as she reached up and pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, and let it fall where he stood.

She led him over to the seating area and sat herself at the edge of the coffee table, him standing in front of her. Then she loosened his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, and pulled him already hard from his pants.

She closed her mouth around his cock, and she sucked, and she hummed, and she licked, until she swallowed his load down her throat, delighted that when he came, he shouted her name incredibly loud with undisguised satisfaction.


	4. Chapter 4

He climbed up the blond's body, and palmed her tits, leaning down to lick and nip and suck her nipples. Then, he rolled a condom onto his cock, and he fucked her... hard.

His headboard banged against the wall, as he thrust into her, and she begged him for more. So he flipped her over, and nailed her from behind, curling his long fingers over her shoulders, and pulling her back onto him, as he slammed into her over and over.

The only thing that could be heard over the bed hitting the wall, and their bodies slapping together lustfully, were their shouts of mutual satisfaction as they came.

______

 

She tucked him back into his pants, and led him to the dining table, pushing against his chest, so he'd sit in the chair at the far end.

Then, she slid onto the table-top directly in front of him, and spread her knees apart, pulling her panties over to the side and rubbing her fingertips across her already wet center.

"God, Jemma... You are so fucking sexy," Grant growled. Then, he lifted a milky white thigh over each shoulder, and bent down to taste her, moving his tongue against her clit in short flickering licks.

She lowered her back down onto the table, spread out before him like a meal, and she sighed, realizing how bad she really needed this, missed it.

Being wanted felt incredibly amazing.

He lapped at her, and thrust his tongue inside of her pussy, tasting and licking and sucking, until she writhed beneath him.

The fingers of her left hand were threaded in his hair, rubbing against his scalp, pulling his face even closer to her needy cunt, but he didn't seem to mind at all, continuing his delicious assault, rubbing his warm hands over the smooth skin of her thighs.

Jemma was too far gone, when Fitz' door opened, to notice, let alone care or stop. 

But then, somehow, she dazedly met Fitz' gaze over Ward's shoulder, and her traitorous body fluttered and tightened in response.

She moaned breathlessly, arching even further into Ward's hold, and she lifted her hips to his mouth and his tongue, like an offering, maintaining eye contact with Fitz, until her eyes closed with overwhelming ecstasy, and she came apart, her body trembling, and her voice breaking as she moaned out her pleasure.

______

 

Well, that wasn't supposed to happen... ever. Not fucking ever... Never.

He and What's-Her-Name just needed some water, and he had clearly heard Jemma's male companion, quite loudly, yell his finish, so he thought it was safe to sneak to the fridge to grab a couple of bottles.

It seemed so simple, but he was wrong, so incredibly, stupidly, wrong.

When he opened his door, he saw Jemma spread out on their dining table, all smooth flesh and lingerie and heals, with her legs thrown over (he was now sure) Ward's shoulders.

Her mouth was slack, her eyes were half-closed, and she was rocking her hips up towards Ward's mouth, seeking oblivion.

She looked fucking amazing, flushed and sighing, whimpering. 

God, she was perfect.

He stopped in his doorway, initially shocked by what he was seeing, but then he froze, completely gob-smacked, and watched. 

He was going to hell. 

Yep... Not going back into his room and shutting the door, when he realized what was going on, pretty much secured his one-way ticket to the blazing hot, fiery depths. 

He watched, mesmerized and jealous, as Ward tasted her, and touched her, and he could barely breathe, when she looked into his eyes, then fell over the edge, crying out as she finished.


	5. Chapter 5

Jemma slid her panties back into place, arching as she sat up, then she leaned forward to kiss Ward's mouth. 

She loved to kiss a man whose lips were warm and soft and wet from pleasuring her.

She loved the taste of herself on his tongue.

Eventually, breathless, she pulled her face back from his, and mumbled, "Bed."

Ward scooted his chair back smoothly, and scooped her up bride-style, "Point the way."

Ward slowed for a moment, smiling at Fitz who was still frozen in his bedroom doorway, "Hey... Nice to see you, Fitz... Makes sense you'd be Jemma's room mate. You guys were always inseparable... "

He nodded at Fitz' door, and smirked a bit, "And good luck with whatever you've got going on in there... "

Ward just kept talking, jovially as he continued past the bathroom doorway, peeking in to make sure it wasn't Jemma's room, then he looked back over his shoulder, "Maybe we'll catch-up in the morning."

______

 

Fitz snagged a couple of waters and crossed back to his door, overhearing Ward's, "Wow," and Jemma's husky laugh, as the door to her room was unceremoniously slammed shut.

______

 

Ward was as skilled as she'd suspected he would be, and she found him to be quite endearing.

He was strong and sweet and attractive, and one-hundred percent focused on her.

When he fucked her against the back of her bedroom door, he made her scream like a hyena, then he laid her down gently on her bed, disposed of the condom, and returned to her side, rubbing his fingers softly over her back.

His refractory period was nothing to slouch at either, and after a small wait, she rolled a condom over him, climbed on top of him, and rode him, slow and easy, their fingers tangled together, and her head thrown back, with her eyes closed.

Her nerve-endings were on fire, and she sighed breathily with each roll of her hips into his.

She wasn't thinking about him, as she moved against his body, but she lowered herself on him, repeatedly taking him deeply inside her, again and again, choosing their depth and pace and rhythm.

This position was her go-to, because no matter who she was fucking, she could pretend it was Fitz inside her, and that he wanted to be with her, and she silently congratulated herself when she got her shit together, and yelled 'Grant' as she came, instead of calling out the embarrassing alternative.

"Shower?" she suggested, assuming that by then her sexy, smoky eye make-up was probably slipping into crackhead raccoon territory.

______

 

Fitz was half-asleep when he heard the shower, and he smiled to himself, assuming that Jemma had tossed out Ward.

Jemma never let men sleep over. 

She got what she needed and sent them on their way, and no matter how many awkward breakfasts she shared with him and his overnight guests, she 'd never had a man stay until morning, no matter how good he was in the sack.

She was more of a get off and get out kind of girl, and somehow between the hours of three and six, she reverted from the sex kitten he could hear ritualistically tearing men apart across the hall, back into the prim and proper, buttoned-to-the-top Jemma Simmons he knew and loved during the light of day.

______

 

Fitz' muddled brain barely registered the light knock on his door, but he rolled over to make sure the blond was still asleep, before he pulled on his discarded boxers and stumbled to the door.

He barely registered that it was Ward at the door, before Ward asked, "Fitz... Do you have any condoms? We sort of ran out... "

"Sorry," he lied, not only surprised that Ward was still in their flat, but also desperately wanting to shut down the sex party that was apparently still in full swing across the hall.

He expected disappointment, but Ward just smiled, "No worries."

Fitz was still standing dazed in his doorway, when Ward broke the news to Jemma, shaking his head as he opened her door, and leaned against it's frame clad in just his boxers, "Sorry, Jem."

Jemma laughed, then responded low and throaty, "Grant, we don't need a condom for me to sit on your face... So shut the fucking door, and get your ass over here."

"God, you're fucking hot," Ward growled out, before he slammed her door.

______

 

Fitz crawled back into his bed, and teased the blond awake, licking and nibbling and sucking her skin, until she writhed underneath him, then he slid down the bed, and buried his face between her thighs, pretending it was Jemma, until she squealed in delight.

______

 

"I feel like you guys have a bit of a competition going on here," Ward mused.

"If it was a competition, aren't you pretty confident we've won?" she asked, smiling.

Ward buried two fingers deep inside her, and she cried out.

He smiled at her, looking absolutely devilish, "Maybe one more time to make damn sure."

Then, he took her clit between his lips and hummed, while he fucked her with his fingers, rubbing her g-spot expertly until she yelled his name, and cursed, and eventually begged him to stop.


	6. Chapter 6

Fitz walked What's-Her-Name into the kitchen in the early hours of the morning, and was welcomed by the sight of Grant Ward cooking bacon in his trousers, with his belt hanging loose in the loops.

"Morning, Fitz."

"Morning," he mumbled back, never being a true morning person. 

He pulled out a chair at the table for the blond, trying not to think about the memory of Jemma laid out on that very table, with Ward's face buried between her thighs, then he padded over to the fridge and grabbed her a water, before he poured himself a cup of water from the kettle, and chose a tea bag of his liking, adding a healthy dose of sugar to the cup, before padding over to the table in his flannel pajama bottoms and blue tee.

He had just settled himself at that table, when Jemma exited her room, and made her way into the kitchen.

"Grant," Jemma called, wearing a heather gray V-neck tee, with a wide enough collar that one of her creamy shoulders was completely exposed where it had fallen down over her upper arm, and her perfect tits and perky nipples were almost completely visible under the pathetically thin garment. 

She had her hair pulled up into a messy bun, and her face was flushed, and there were love bites, and stubble abrasions all over her neck and chest.

Her face was scrubbed clean of make-up and her mouth was swollen and pink, and she looked incredibly fucking hot.

Ward took a step back from the stove, smiling appreciatively, and she raised her arm up in the air, "You forgot to unlock me, Detective."

Fitz choked on his first drink of tea, and his overnight guest gasped quietly, as they watched Ward pull her arm even higher over her head with one hand and fish the keys out of his pocket with the other, pulling her against him, and inadvertently pulling up the hem of her top and flashing her delicious lace-covered ass to the on-lookers, as he unlocked the hand-cuff that was secured around Jemma's left wrist.

He looped the cuffs into a clip at the back of his belt, without even looking, and dropped the keys back into his pocket, then he sweetly looked over her wrists for bruising.

She smiled endearingly, "I'm fine, Grant, but thank you for worrying."

He smiled, "Oh, I'm not worried. I'm evaluating my cuffing skills."

She laughed and playfully slapped his chest, "Would you like to re-evaluate your frisking skills?"

He backed her against the counter, and lifted her onto its top, spreading his long fingers over her thighs and pulling them along either side of his torso, "I think you're clean."

Then, he bent over her, and kissed her until she pushed him away, breathless, "Well, you did wipe down all of my bits."

He laughed, "Happy to help, honey."

Then, she smiled and hopped off the counter, and started making toast. 

______

 

Breakfast was less awkward than she'd anticipated.

Grant was happy and kind, and sailed smoothly through their table conversation, before he politely cleared the table, and retreated to Jemma's room to gather up his remaining articles.

Jemma loaded the dishwasher, then picked up Ward's suit jacket, and hung it over the back of one of the dining chairs. 

Then, she retrieved her dress from the floor, and smoothed it out, before laying it over the back of the couch.

She gave an appreciative groan, when Ward walked down the hall, button up shirt still open slightly at the neck, unshaved face, shoulder holster, gun and badge. It didn't get much hotter than that.

He smiled at her, then pulled on his jacket, and met her at the door of their flat.

He leaned down and kissed her, pressing her into the door, before her stooped a bit and lifted her against him, pinning her to its surface.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, comfortably, and carded her fingers through his hair, before breaking away breathless, "Leave now, or I may rethink our flawless no-dating policy."

He smiled and bit her neck, "I'll text you."

He gently lowered to the floor, and she stepped back to open the door, smiling wide and joking, "Whoa... Back off, stalker."

He laughed, and stepped out into the hall, then rushed forward for one last kiss, and she giggled against his lips, "Out Grant. I need to catch-up on my sleep."

He held onto her fingertips, until he stepped out of her reach, then he walked down the hall, with only one more backward glance, and she shut the door with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

When she walked out of her bedroom, she felt amazing.

She knew she looked good, really good, downright fuckable, and hopefully Fitz wouldn't be able to deny it any longer.

Ever since Ward spent the night, she noticed Fitz cautiously watching her. He secretly looked at her legs, when her skirt rode up higher on her thighs as she strapped on her shoes for work, and she'd seen his appreciative glances more than once, when she walked from the bathroom to her bedroom with only a too-short towel covering her shower-slick body.

He never made any advances toward her, and like kerosene to her already raging inferno of jealousy, he continued to have overnight guests, vocal, loud, satisfied-in-the-morning overnight guests, that had his permission to eagerly ride his cock all night, while she tried not to listen from her bedroom.

But those looks, they were something. They were proof that he wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that she had indeed grown up, changing from the girl he'd met into an actual, real-life woman.

She'd been living off of his looks for weeks, but tonight was the night she was going to break him... one way or another. She was a nubile, attractive, young woman, complete with awesomely perky tits and a cherry pussy dying for his undivided attentions, and it was about fucking time he damn well realized it.

Tonight, he could eat his fucking heart out, or fuck her into oblivion, but pretending they were still just platonic friends was no longer an option.

Tonight would define them moving forward, and she had the perfect ensemble to get him hot and hard, and hopefully, inside her... repeatedly.

It was Saints and Sinners night at Jemma's brother's bar, and Skye and she had spent over an hour getting ready to attend.

Skye was going as a sinner, complete with a black and red corset, leather pants, lace-up knee boots, dark make-up, and a devil horned headband... And, she looked every bit the sexy demon.

But not Jemma. 

No, she was going as the most sinfully sexy saint she could possibly transform herself into.

She had on a white lace corset, that was cinched almost too-tight over a short, white frothy skirt that barely covered her ass. 

She was wearing gold strappy Roman sandals on her delicate little feet, and had gold filigree arm cuffs wrapped around the pale smooth skin of each upper arm, just above the bend at each of her elbows.

A smooth gold head band sat on her head like a tiara, nestled in all of the pinned up curls that were piled on top of her head, and her make-up was amazing, all glittery gold and peaches and cream. 

She had shimmering gold powder all over her chest, neck, back and shoulders, and she fucking glowed. 

She looked like the beautiful angel that starred in every teenage boy's dreams and fantasies, oozing sexy innocence, and lusty perversion.

So when she entered the living room, she had no problem heading straight for him.

She knew what she wanted, and it was time to put everything on the line to go and get it.

______

 

Skye had picked out his outfit for him, but girls being girls, he was ready to leave long before either one of them actually emerged from Jemma's bedroom.

Skye came out first, and she checked him over, carefully adjusting his black tie and vest over his smooth, red, fitted button-up, and spinning him like a mother checking over her child.

"You clean up real nice, Fitz," she said brushing off his shoulders.

He smiled, "Thanks, Skye. You look nice, too... and positively sinful for the occasion."

She shrugged, "It's the corset... Jemma's got a freaky lingerie fetish, and I benefit as her borrowing best friend."

He always thought lingerie was a nice, visually-stimulating addition to any evening, but Jemma in lingerie? Cue: popping champagne bottle.

Just the thought made his cock thicken in his pants.

He cleared his throat, and shook his head to clear it.

Baseball. Cankles. Fishing tournaments. Phew!

"Is Jemma going as a saint or a sinner?" He asked, trying to stop thinking of her covered in scraps of lace and satin and nothing else.

"Saint... "

He sighed, and nodded, relieved. 

He wasn't sure he could handle Jemma trussed up like a dominatrix straight out of hell.

"But, wait until you see her," Skye said with a smile, "She looks amazing... and still pretty damn sinful, if you ask me."

"I resent that... I am a saint, through and through," Jemma joked walking into the room.

He and Skye turned at the sound of Jemma's voice, and he stopped breathing, when he saw her.

Jemma, in that tight, lacy, frothy ensemble, would definitely be starring in every naughty-dream he had for the foreseeable future.

He mentally categorized and filed away images of her like this in the already Jemma-heavy spank bank region of his depraved mind.

He was cursed.

When she sexily walked over, and straightened his tie, laying one palm flat on his chest over his heart, he could see the impish glint in her eyes, and a small satisfied smirk on her lips.

Was she fucking with him? 

She had to know what she looked like. Obviously, she made herself up like that on purpose to kill not only him, but also every other man that she came into contact with at the club. 

And if she wanted to know what he personally thought about her beautiful, naughty, slutty virgin ensemble, she was more than welcome to run her fingers over the front of his jeans and feel his embarrassingly engorged dick. 

In fact, he would like her to run her fingers over him, and rub his cock... repeatedly... at home, where no one else but him would see her in her barely-there outfit.

He whimpered quietly, and she smugly smiled just a bit wider when she heard it, biting her straight white teeth into her full lower lip.

God dammit. He was acting like a horny thirteen year old, so he narrowed his eyes and tried pep-talking himself. 

(Get your shit together. You are not an untried virgin. You get pussy all the time. Say something nonchalant.)

"You smell like vanilla."

Where the fuck did that come from? Smooth... Super-smooth.

Why did he have game with every other woman on the planet except Jemma Simmons?

She was looking him over intently, when Skye walked up to Jemma, licked her shoulder, and started laughing.

Jemma squealed, and jumped away, "Stop it... It tickles."

"It's so good. I'm about ready to brush it all over my arms, so I can lick it off of myself at the club."

He knew he had a perplexed look on his face, and when Skye saw it, she demanded that he lick Jemma, too.

Lick Jemma. Lick Jemma?

He almost groaned, but instead he ground out, "Excuse me?"

Jemma smiled, and boldly stepped forward, "No, really... Try it... Lick my neck."

She turned her head and arched her neck back a little, exposing the smooth skin just over her pulse point.

He was going to hell for the things he was thinking right then, and if Skye wasn't there, he's not sure they'd make it to the bar at all. 

He raised an eyebrow, "Jem?"

She laughed huskily, and her eyes were full of mirth, when she curled her fingers around the back of his neck, and pulled his face down against the hollow of her throat, whispering daringly, "Taste me, Leo."

Was it possible for his cock alone to split his zipper? Because he was painfully hard, and horribly confined in his dark fitted jeans.

He really had no choice with her challenging him like that, teasing him, so he ran his tongue tentatively over her soft, pale, shimmery skin, then he groaned, and licked her again, and when she giggled delightfully, he bit her neck playfully for good measure.

"What the hell is that?" he asked as he raised his head.

Jemma laughed, but her skin was prettily flushed, and her pupils were deceptively wide, "Passion Powder... It's the shimmery stuff on my skin. It smells like vanilla and tastes like sugar cookies."

Skye interjected excitedly, "And it's so fucking yummy. If you were my date, I'd hold you down and lick you all night."

Jemma looked up at him, and bit her lip seductively, "What about you, Leo? Do you want to hold me down and lick me all night?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Sex it up on your own time, Jemma," Skye laughed, dragging her to the door, "Lance and Bobbi are expecting us."

Jemma turned back, and looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow, "You coming?"

Practically... Damn it.

He wondered briefly, if he could beg off, and rub one out before meeting up with them later, just to ease his aching cock.

Eventually, he just nodded and followed them out, talking down his dick as they walked along the sidewalk.

Cold showers. Mr. Rogers. Teletubbies. Ingrown toenails.

______

 

"Sis, please. We really need your help." 

Fucking figures.

Her eyes flicked longingly to Fitz for a second, before she brought them back to rest on Lance.

"Where do you need me?"

"Lower level. Mike's working, but he's falling behind, and we're too busy up here for Bobbi or me to run down there to help him out."

She nodded, then texted Skye to let her know she was tending, before making her way to the lower level, to wallow in her self-pity.

______ 

 

Watching her tend bar should not have been as entertaining as he found it to be.

She was beautiful and silly, and everyone crowded around her bright smile and musical laughter.

She and Mike danced and joked and laughed and sang, and they had no problem keeping up with the crowd once they began working together.

______

 

'Am I throwin' you off?'

'Nope.'

'Didn't think so.'

He smiled, when he heard "Promiscuous" start.

He'd seen Trip earlier, and he knew he and Jemma couldn't help themselves, and he turned just in time to see Mike lifting Jemma up onto the bar-top where Trip was smiling wide.

Trip was dressed as a saint, Fitz idly wondered if they'd planned to match her white frothy ensemble to his... White trousers, white shirt, white tie, white vest, white fedora... 

Trip sang Timbaland's part, and Jemma sang Nelly Furtado's, and they were completely fucking ridiculous... and highly inappropriate.

There was grinding and slut dropping and groping and lots of ass shaking.

He couldn't not watch. 

Towards the end of the song, Trip and Jemma started laughing, and became even more exaggeratedly daring and naughty with one another, and Fitz couldn't help but smile a bit, making his way to the bar, getting there just as the song ended.

Bobbi arrived at the same time with a small smirk on her lips, "Trip, get your ass off of the bar... Hunter loves you, but if you don't stop molesting and spanking his baby sister in public, he's going to fire your boyfriend, just so you'll go away."

Trip laughed, "Blame, Jemma. She makes me do it."

Jemma just shrugged innocently, and smiled, as Trip hopped down behind the bar, pausing to plant a sexy kiss on Mike's lips, before he made himself a fresh drink, and returned to his seat at the bar, with an easy smile, high-fiving Jemma as he passed.


	9. Chapter 9

Fucking moron.

She'd turned away for one bloody second, and there was a fucking slag already pressed into his side.

God dammit.

What the hell did she have to do to get the attention she wanted from him?

He was fucking clueless.

She'd been on a slow burn for months, and she was about ready to implode, because he had to be the stupidest man walking on the face of the earth.

______

 

He made his way over to Skye, "Where's Jemma?"

She sighed, "She left."

"She did? Why?"

She looked uncomfortable, and more than a little hostile, "I'm staying out of it."

What the hell? Was she mad at him?

"Out of what?"

She gave him a hard look, then sighed, "Go home, Fitz... Alone... Go. Home. Alone."

______

 

She stripped off her skirt and corset and jewelry and sandals. Then, she took down her hair, and shook out the curly masses, letting them fall loose around her shoulders.

She pulled an over-sized tee on over her white satin panties, slipped in her ear buds, then slid down to the floor between her bedside table and the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest, so she could disappear.

Everything had started out so well. She'd flirted, and she was pretty sure that he'd flirted back, but hours later, and a few drinks in, he had found company for the night, and she'd found an angry, bitter, confused side of herself that she wanted to hide away, where no one else would see her.

She was weak... so fucking weak.

She was ashamed.

She was embarrassed. 

Jemma Simmons was not frail. She was not vulnerable, and she certainly was not breakable.

Until, she was.

She turned up the volume... Better to risk hearing loss than listen to whatever the fuck he did later... or more accurately, to whomever he fucked later.

She tried to talk herself out of it. She did. She tried.

(Do not cry. Do not. Get your shit together, you pathetic slag. You are not a child. You have never been a fucking child. You are supposed to be a sensible, intelligent woman... Be logical... Think it over, if you must, but don't you dare fucking cry.)

______

 

The flat was dark, except for the hood-light emitting a soft glow from above the stove in the kitchen. 

He tossed his keys, phone, and wallet onto the counter, then went to find her.

Skye'd been weirdly ominous, so he wasn't sure what to expect, but he was oddly worried that something was wrong... that he'd done something wrong.

He knocked lightly, but she didn't answer... not that it really mattered.

They never locked their doors to one another, and knocking was just a warning that the other was coming in. 

Her permission wasn't needed. Consent to enter had always been understood, so he turned the handle and opened her door.


	10. Chapter 10

Warmth.

She wasn't even aware she was cold, until she felt something warm touch her skin, then she was sure that she must be freezing, her skin covered in frost.

But her brain was too muddled, and her body was too heavy, to seek out more of the comforting heat once it withdrew from her.

So, she stayed where she was, pulling her arms and legs in even tighter around her middle, a feeble attempt to still her shivering body.

Then, the insistent, annoying thrumming in her ears subsided.

And the pounding in her head diminished, and the relief the silence brought her lulled her even deeper into her slumber.

She burrowed her face in tighter against her upper arm and knee as she cycled even lower, her exhausted sleep allowing her mind to roam freely, permitting her senses to play tricks on her... welcome tricks, but deceptions, just the same.

She felt herself moving, falling, her body sloppily unfolding and clumsily rolling forward, oddly tethered by her arm.

So in response, she stiffened her body, steeling herself for an uncomfortable landing against the hard surface of the floor, but instead, she collided with something a bit more forgiving... And, there was more heat, a soothing warmth, pressed all along her side.

She tried to bury herself into it, surround herself in it, cuddling her body as close as she could against it to soak in its welcome warmth, consoling herself with the hazy version of him that lived within her mind.

Of course, it was him. 

It was always him.

And she secretly, shamelessly loved these illusions, her subconscious creating little snippets of him to comfort her while she slept.

She could manifest almost everything about him... his warmth... his smell... his touch... his voice.

She could hear him within her dreamless haze, but she was hopelessly unable make out his words.

It didn't matter.

She wouldn't let it matter. 

She would revel in whatever she was allowed, knowing all too soon it would be over, and she'd be alone again.

And even though she had known his presence would be fleeting, she still curled in on herself, when something heavy was pulled over her, and the warmth subsided, as he pulled away.

She felt so cold, so engulfed in sadness, that she curled into herself.

And somewhere in her mind, she heard his voice again, but it didn't help.

Her tears began to fall, and this time, she didn't try to talk them away. 

She just let herself grieve the loss of him and his surrounding warmth.

He was leaving her.

He always left her.

She'd tried before to make him stay, but attempting to clutch his warmth back to her had never worked. He always ebbed away regardless of her protests, so she'd learned to let him go.

It was hopeless.

So, she did nothing, and her heart broke, like it did each and every time it happened.

She pulled her knees up close to her chest, hugging her arms around her shins, as her tears fell, letting the cold silence consume her again, sadly sinking back into the thick dense fog that held her prisoner, and muddled her senses.

Surprisingly, thankfully, a short time later, the warmth returned... and along with it, his smell... and his voice... 

She turned herself to move into it, allowing it to surround her, and willing it not to leave her this time, desperate for him to stay, even if just for a little while longer.

Then, she heard the steady beat of his heart under her ear, and she marveled at the perfection of it, him.

So, she let the rhythm consume her sleep-laden mind, melting into it, syncing her own heart to the sound of it.

She even heard his voice again, but this time she understood his words, when he told her that everything was going to be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

She was so relieved to hear those words in her head, that she felt her tense muscles finally relax, and she told him she loved him, the same way she'd uttered it a hundred times before, in the dark recesses of her brain.

And like before, she heard her words ring out loud and clear within her mind, and she listened to the syllables, as they musically wrapped themselves around the invariable, rhythmic beating of his heart.

But unlike ever before, her voice simultaneously uttered the same words outside of her mind.

They hoarsely left her mouth, and floated softly out into the dark silence of her room, spoken out loud by her for the very first time.


	11. Chapter 11

He didn't see her at first, then he kind of melted a bit when he did.

It was the overflow from her earbuds, the annoying buzz of muffled music cutting across the dark silence of her bedroom, that led him to her.

She was so tiny, sitting on the floor, curled up between the wall and her bedside table.

Her knees were tucked up into her chest, and her starkly pale legs were bared all the way up to the edge of her panties that rested at the juncture of her hip and thigh.

He knelt down in front of her tiny body, and endearingly looked over the heavy mass of chestnut curls that was cascading over her shoulders in perfect disarray, also noticing that her dark lashes were beautifully fanned out across her pale cheeks, and her soft lips were slackened by sleep.

She was so amazing.

Even asleep, he found her to be completely bewitching.

He reached out slowly to awaken her, gently touching her leg.

He sighed, because her skin felt like ice under his fingertips, startlingly cold, remarkably smooth.

She didn't react to his touch, but she did respond to its absence, pulling her knees in tighter to her chest and shivering, once his warm fingers left her chilled skin.

His eyebrows drew together at her obvious discomfort.

Then, he reached out and gently removed her earbuds, turning off the music, and setting her phone on her nightstand, before he pulled back her bed covers, and moved back in front of her feet.

She stiffened when he grasped her forearm and gently tugged her away from the wall, but when he pulled her closer, she immediately became more pliant and snuggled into his hold, so she was much easier to lift, and place in her bed.

He released his hold on her slight frame, and brushed her hair out of her face, "It's okay, Jemma... Let's get you warmed up."

He tucked her blankets in around her, and stepped back, and he wasn't sure, but she almost seemed to roll into an even smaller ball.

He shook his head, worried.

"I'll be back in a few minutes. Just try to get warm."

He went across the hall to his own bedroom, and quickly discarded his clothing on the floor, then pulled on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a cotton tee.

And after taking a moment to relieve himself and brush his teeth, he went back into her room to check on her, horrified and heartbroken by what he found.

Jemma was crying in her sleep, her shoulders shaking, and salty tears running wet over her face.

What happened to her?

Something had to have happened. 

Jemma Simmons did not cry... Ever.

But there she was, shattered and shaking, and he found himself quite devastated.

He climbed in, under the covers with her, like he had a hundred times before, though maybe not as often within the last couple of years, and he reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Jemma?"

"Jemma... Let me help you... " he encouraged hoarsely, running his fingers over her arm.

His throat was tight.

He just needed her to be okay, '"Jem... please."

He was so relieved, when she seemed to finally hear him and rolled over.

He could tell that she was still asleep, by the way she sighed his name, and wiggled to get closer, knocking him to his back, and burying her face under his chin, against his throat.

He wrapped his arms around her and murmured comforting words, rubbing his hands over her arms and back in an effort to warm her chilled skin.

She stopped crying, but she continued to fidget and whimper, until there was no space between them and her head was pillowed by his chest.

She ended up more on top him, than beside him, but if that's where she was the most comfortable, then that's where she'd stay.

He settled his arms around her, and spoke softly, "Hey... Whatever it is, we can fix it... We'll make it okay... "

He pressed a kiss into her hair, and promised, "Everything will be okay."

Then, he felt her body relax even more, and he sighed, relieved.

"Tomorrow... We'll make everything okay."

He knew he'd give her anything she demanded, do anything she requested.

"Promise."

He knew he was in love with her, irrevocably besotted.

He'd be whatever she needed him to be.

He shut his eyes, and cradled her close, wishing he was free to love her and hold her, when she wasn't asleep and broken and freezing cold.

Then, he heard her speak, her voice quietly filling the silence surrounding them in her bedroom.

It was almost a whisper, but her words were unmistakable.

"I love you, Leo."


	12. Chapter 12

She woke up sluggishly, the warmth around her slowing her morning ascent from sleep.

She moved her fingers a bit, and her movements were answered by a sigh, and being pulled into a tighter hold, work-roughened hands sliding over the bare skin of her back.

She smiled.

It was him... real him.

Yeah... Hell, yeah.

He was there, really there, sleeping next to her.

Well... mostly under her.

But really... He was there.

She chanced tilting her chin upwards to look at his face, reaching up to slide her hair out of her eyes.

She held her breath, because when she moved again, he sighed and rolled onto his side.

But instead of displacing her, he shifted her back against his shoulder, so they were belly-to-belly, and their legs were entwined, bringing his free arm up around her shoulder to hold her close, his fingers tangling in her hair.

She sighed and slowly slid her hand up under the edge of his tee, flattening it to the warm skin at the small of his back, holding him to her as well.

Then, she settled in, cozying down, and let herself lazily slumber once more.

______

 

Her body was pressed against his, with her neck resting against his upper arm, and her face buried under his chin.

He wasn't sure, yet, if she was awake, but he desperately wanted to see her face.

Her beautiful... amazing face.

He was not crazy.

She'd said it.

He'd heard it.

He sighed, and shifted slightly, tilting his head to press a kiss into her hair, and he felt her stir.

She slowly rolled her head back, and looked at him, her eyelids heavy, and her mouth puffy from sleep.

"Hey," she mumbled.

She was so perfect.

"Hey," he whispered back.

She smiled, and sighed, blinking a couple of times.

"Did you stay with me?"

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, and nodded, noticing that she'd made no moves to separate them.

"Is that okay?"

Please, be okay.

She smiled wider, but her voice was still rough with sleep, "It's okay... I like you being in here with me."

He smiled, bringing his forehead to rest against hers, "There's no one else I 'd rather wake up with... You know that, right?"

She let her heavy eyelids fall closed, and mumbled, "I do now."

______

 

She blinked and stretched, but didn't retract her leg that was thrown over his, "Mmm... Do you have plans today?"

He didn't remove his hand from where it rested along her bare side, "No... you?"

She shook her head a little, "I need to shower, but I'm yours after that, if you want me."

Wow.

That came out all wrong... And all right, at the same time.

He started moving his thumb in little circles on her skin, setting her nerves on fire, "If I agree to let you up to shower, can we, please, spend the rest of the weekend at home ?"

"For all I care, we can spend the rest of the weekend in bed."

And again... What the fuck?

______

 

He could tell that the innuendo that kept flying out of her mouth was unintentional, but still.

He chuckled and pulled her closer, "I could spend every weekend in bed with you."

Oh, Great.

Apparently, foot-in-mouth syndrome was contagious.

She looked up at him, "It might prove difficult to schedule your play-dates, if you plan to sleep in my room every weekend."

Play-dates? What?

Lightbulb.

Oh...

"Jemma... "

He saw the moment she started to panic.

She started to roll away, so he rolled with her, and she ended up beneath him.

______

 

She wanted to escape.

She sounded pathetic.

He'd been joking, of course, and she'd been stupid... gone fishing.

Abort mission. God dammit. Abort.

She tried to roll away, but he rolled with her, and ended up on top of her pressing her into the mattress.

No... Run.

Get away... and hide.

She looked up at him defiantly, her chest initially heaving a bit under his unexpected weight.

But then, her breaths hitched, and her heart hurt.

She loved him... and his stupid, stupid, beautiful face.

Ignorant, weak, fucking girl.

Her eyes softened and turned sad, and she clumsily threaded her fingers through his hair.

Then, she blinked and tears spilled out of her eyes, and ran over the smooth skin near her temples, disappearing into her hair above her ears.

There was no escape... no brilliant words... no fake smile to protect her anymore.

Her thoughts fell out, whispered into the silence between them.

"I-I can't be here anymore... I just... I thought I could, but I-I'm... I can't... "

______

 

No.

His body still pinned hers to the mattress, and he wasn't setting her free.

Not ever.

He trapped her face in between his hands, so she couldn't turn away from him, and he wiped away her tears.

She closed her eyes to avoid him, and that just wouldn't do.

He ghosted his lips across hers, and her eyes snapped open.

He smiled. 

"There she is... "

He kissed her mouth again with a little more pressure, biting her lip lightly as he pulled away, and her breath hitched in her chest, her hands dropping to the mattress on either side of her face, into her tangled hair.

"My amazingly perfect best friend... "

He trapped her chin in one hand, and gently turned her head to the side, then lowered his mouth to her neck, licking and biting and sucking a line from her throat to her shoulder, not releasing her from his attentions, until she breathily released a moan from her throat.

"Fitz... What are you doing?" she ground out hoarsely.

Loving you.

"Who tastes like sugar cookies, and goes to the bar in just her knickers... "

She was breathing quite heavily, and was flushed a beautiful color of pink.

He experimentally rocked his body against hers intimately, and she gasped quietly, "Fitz... "

"And the only girl who makes my cock think that I'm thirteen again... "

He leaned over and captured her earlobe between his lips, and nipped and licked over its surface, before he quietly made his next statement, his breath warmly whispering over her neck.

"Because I've been in love with her for over a year... I swear... and I've been just too damn scared to tell her."


	13. Chapter 13

She trembled, but didn't respond, and after a few moments, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.

God, he was... everything.

Just... everything.

She licked her lips, and slowly brought her hands up and cradled his face between her palms, terrified, but hopeful.

She looked into his eyes for several seconds, then whispered, "Don't."

Don't let him say something he doesn't mean, and please, don't let him take it back later.

Just... Don't.

______

 

He looked over her face, her perfect, teary-eyed face, and all he could think was that she was the only one for him, the only one who would ever be for him.

And their connection, it was electric... fated... inevitable.

"It's the truth," he whispered, before he brought a hand up to cover hers at his cheek, then turned his face to press his lips to her palm, "And I'm certainly not taking it back."

______

 

She slid her free hand up to rub her fingers across the hair at his temple, then she paused, looking into his eyes.

Eventually, she moved her hand to the back of his neck, and pulled his face to hers in wordless surrender.

His lips were warm against hers, their softness a stark contradiction to the rough scruff along his jaw, and the stubble of growth around his mouth, and she never wanted to stop feeling him, tasting him... or, God in Heaven... hearing the sounds he made, and she quickly became lost in everything that was him, knowing only that she wanted more.

______

 

She slid her fingertips along his skin, pulling him closer, drawing him in, and he went willingly, holding her close, tasting her lips, wanting to only ever be with her, and needing her to know how he felt about her, him whispering, "I love you," against her skin.

______

 

Their clothes wordlessly fell away, until not a stitch remained between them, and she felt like her body was on fire, flames licking over her nerve endings everywhere his skin touched hers, making her writhe beneath him.

"God... Leo, please touch me."

He slid his tongue into her mouth and ran his fingertips gently through her folds, and she wantonly moaned and shivered in his arms.

"My God, Jemma," he whispered, when the evidence of her desire slicked over the pads of his fingers.

She reached between them and circled her soft hand around his shaft, slowly rubbing up and down over his hardness, her eyes never leaving his, and when his breaths stuttered a bit in his chest, she released his cock from her grasp, then bit her lip, breathily demanding, "Condom."

He shifted and stretched over her, pulling a condom from her bedside table's drawer, rolling it onto himself before gently settling himself back between her thighs, reverently running his fingers over her jaw, a small tremble revealing his trepidation.

"Hey... " she whispered, cradling his face, "We're still us... We're just-"

"More... We're more," he whispered hoarsely.

"So much more," she whispered, pulling his face to hers with one hand, and pressing her mouth to his, as she rubbed her other hand over his back, skating her fingertips over his iliac crest, then sliding it in between them, to circle her fingers around his erection, and align him with her center.

She whispered his name, and when he lifted his head, she thought she may actually fall into the dark cerulean depths of his eyes, and it made her breath hitch in her throat.

"Jemma, I-"

"Fitz," she whispered, her fingertips pulling at his hips, "Please."

______

 

"I love you," he whispered against her lips, watching her face as he slowly slid into her.

Her body trembled and fluttered as it adjusted to the invasion, and he paused for a moment before he withdrew a bit, and pressed forward again.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, and the sincerity of her words made his chest constrict with emotion and amazement. 

She looked into his eyes, and snugged her knees up higher alongside his torso, taking him in even deeper, fitting them together perfectly.

He kissed across her jaw and down her neck, his cock hardening even more within her, as her muscles trembled, and her body tightened around him, and the sensation of being channeled within her was unreal... unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Even the way she pressed herself against him felt different, and so... Jemma.

He licked his way down her chest, and she arched up into him, when his mouth closed over her nipple, moaning and writhing against him as he sucked the hardened peak and ran his tongue over its tip, and she whispered his name, repeatedly, when he moved to the other side, her soft voice brushing lightly across his ear, "Fitz... Fitzfitzfitz..."

He raised his head, and when their eyes met, she begged him for more, fire dancing in her liquid amber eyes, smoldering and hot, "Please... "

" Please... Leo... " she sighed, "I-I... Please... move."

He had kept his body still, pinning her, as much for himself as for her, unsure initially, whether he could control his passion, he wanted her so much, but when she begged him, what else could he do but oblige?

______

 

He didn't withdraw, and instead, he rocked his pelvis against hers, rubbing the tip of him against her g-spot in a positively electrifying way... over and over and over.

She slid her hands over the smooth skin of his back, and tilted her pelvis a bit more, up into his, tightening her thighs along his torso, so every single movement he made was a stroke against her most sensitive neurons, igniting the sparks of her desire into white-hot flames, and her body tingled and tightened around him as they found an intensely slow, highly stimulating rhythm.

They breathed each other's air, and their chests and bellies slickened with sweat from the heat of their bodies pressed tightly against one another, and although she would've said that she'd experienced slow couplings in the past, and possibly would've even said that she'd made love, absolutely nothing, and no one, compared to this, to him, and every single shift of weight sent fire burning through her core.

Every sigh he breathed... and every moan he released from his throat... was like oxygen to the flames in her belly, making her burn even hotter.

"God... Leo," she mumbled, trying to communicate just how different, and amazingly perfect, they were together.

And as if he knew exactly what she meant, he buried his face against her neck below her ear, and hoarsely replied, "I-I know... It's n-never been like this."

Her body hummed with the flawless push and pull they created together, and her muscles pulled even tighter, electrified by their passion.

"P-please don't stop," she stuttered against his throat.

He groaned against her neck and lightly nipped the soft skin of her throat, and she moaned.

Her breaths became shorter, heavier as she fought to draw even more oxygen, until she downright panted, "Harder."

He rocked into her with a bit more force, while maintaining their slow, steady pace, and her body tightened, locking itself around him, before her orgasm blazed into a rolling, pulsing, flaming inferno, starting at her center and spreading out over the rest of her body, her clinging to him, and crying out against his neck.

Through the roaring flames of her orgasm, she felt the hardening spasms of his own release deep within her, and heard her own name gravelly whispered across her ear, low and sexy, and heavily accented.

They remained locked together, with her body quivering against his.

Post-orgasmic after-shocks pulsed through her body, and clutched down on his over-sensitized cock, and with each gripping pull of her tightened muscles, a small gasp escaped from his throat, making her giggle against his neck.

They were both breathless, but he raised his head when he heard her giggle, and looked into her eyes, smiling, before he lowered his mouth to hers again, for a searing kiss.

She buried her fingers in his hair, and when he lifted his head, she smiled, "There's no going back from that."

"No. That was-"

"Amazing," she whispered, her eyes twinkling.

"Magnificent," he whispered against her lips.

She raised an eyebrow, "Are you surprised?"

He buried his face against her throat, and chuckled, "Definitely not... You and I have always been startlingly remarkable together... We're predestined."

"Inevitable," she agreed, smiling.

He held her close and nuzzled her with his nose, "Fated."

She hummed, "I agree, but for something so completely and utterly unavoidable, it has certainly taken a long time coming."

He kissed her lips softly, then whispered, "I believe we'll find it was worth the wait."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

"Want to play another hand?" she asked tilting her head slightly to the side.

He looked positively dangerous, eyes glittering, as he looked over her body, naked except for a pair of white silk, lace top thigh highs. Then, he pushed his chair back from the table, and stood up, still fully clothed, "You cheated."

Fuck yeah, she cheated.

She wanted nothing more than to lose... as soon as humanly possible.

She looked down at her discarded clothing, strewn about on the floor, and arched her brow, "Leo, I've lost every hand, so far."

A muscle near his jaw twitched, and she itched to reach out for him, but she held her ground, playing her part, and leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders a bit.

She crossed her arms behind her head, knowing good and well that the motion would lift her breasts, then, she waited.

"Jemma..." he ground out.

She licked her lips, then innocently looked up at him, "Yes?"

She saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and wanted him naked as soon as fucking possible (now would be fantastic), but she used all of her self-control to wait him out. She really needed for him to break first.

And once he broke, she'd give him whatever he wanted... 

Gladly...

Energetically...

Repeatedly.

He took a step towards her, but then stopped, opening and closing his hands, and she could almost see the heat radiating off of his skin.

He swallowed, then hoarsely whispered, "I'm done... Y-you win."

Fucking right.

She bit her lip to stop the wide smile threatening to break across her face, then she reached out and tugged him in front of her, her fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers.

She looked up at him, "Who said I wanted to win?"

He ran the backs of his fingers softly over her face, as she unbuckled his belt.

"In fact... I was quite looking forward to losing."

Because losing to him was most definitely winning in her opinion.

"Yeah?" he whispered.

God, yes.

She busied herself, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, then took him in her hands, rubbing her fingers up and down over his hardness.

"Absolutely," she admitted, huskily, before leaning forward, and slowly swiping her tongue over the tip of him, groaning low in her throat, when she tasted the pre-cum pooling along his slit.

She was never going to get tired of him... this... their life together.

Whether they were watching television, preparing dinner, or playing strip poker in their dining room, she found herself to be almost always blissfully entertained, and most definitely looking forward to more.

She slowly licked from the base of his cock, up over the shaft, to the tip, where she swirled her tongue around him, without ever breaking eye contact. 

Then, she closed her lips around him, slowly taking him into her mouth, inch by inch, until she couldn't take any more of him down her throat, and when he closed his eyes and sighed, tipping his head back slightly, she released a husky chuckle from her throat.

When he looked at her, she smirked, his dick still hard between her lips, then she raised her head to remove him from her mouth, still running her fingers over him, up and down and up and down.

She was positively ravenous for him.

She wanted him all the time, and right now, she wanted him in her mouth, hard and heavy, sliding over her tongue.

She wanted to feel him at the back of her throat.

She wanted her eyes to water, because of how deeply he plunged himself into her.

"Leo?"

He gasped, when she flicked her wrist as she moved her hands over him, "Hmm?"

She smiled impishly, with her lips ghosting just over the tip of him, as she dropped her hands, then she slid her palms up the backs of his thighs to cup his ass.

"I want you... to fuck... my face," she whispered sincerely, kneading his bum a bit with her fingertips. 

She opened her mouth wide, and pulled him to her, taking him into her mouth, as far as she could take him, her eyes watering sympathetically at the intrusion.

She looked up at him, knowing she looked blown out, but not caring one bit.

"Bloody hell, Jemma," he rasped, looking down at her.

She used her grip on his bum to guide his movements, and create a deliciously deep, rhythmic thrust to her throat, fighting against her gag reflex, as saliva dripped down her chin.

She hummed her satisfaction, when he cradled her face and looked into her eyes, silently convincing himself that she wanted exactly what she'd requested.

Warm.

Then, he threaded his long fingers through her hair, bringing his hands to rest at the back of her head and neck, pulling her onto his cock gently, guiding her over him again and again, sweetly... reverently.

Warmer.

She ran her nails over his clothed bum, and his hips stuttered forward, his fingers tightening in her hair, making her moan, shamefully loud. Then, he took over, directing her and leading her, burying himself down her throat, and her body clenched in response, the wetness of her desire dripping onto her thighs.

Hot.

He held her against him, buried down her throat, and ground himself against her mouth, moving his hips in small circles, telling her how perfect and beautiful and amazing she was in a low, gravelly, passion-laced voice.

Fuck... She was on fire.

"Jemma... " he ground out, pulling her off of him gently. Then, he wrapped his long fingers around her wrists, and pulled her to her feet, kissing her deeply, before hoarsely suggesting, "Bedroom?"

She shook her head, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it from his shoulders, kissing across his jaw, as he toed off his shoes and socks, then she pushed his trousers and boxer briefs over the curve of his bum, and let gravity carry them to the floor, dropping to her knees in front of him, "Right here... Right now."

She took him into her mouth again, hollowing out her cheeks, sucking, moving up and down on him, loving the taste of him on her tongue, and the feel of him against her throat.

"Fuck, Jem," he whispered.

She moaned low in her throat, "We'll get to that... but right now... "

"Right now?" 

"RIght now... Our wager," she said hoarsely.

"Jem," he whispered breathlessly.

"I want it... and technically, I did lose," she whispered, as she took him back into her mouth.

But... after only a few more bobs of her head, he pulled her mouth off of him, and dropped to his knees before her, pushing her down to her back, and climbing over her.

He kissed her mouth, all tongue and lust, swallowing her moans and sighs, before nipping across her jaw, biting and sucking, licking and loving her.

His calloused fingertips worked magic over her nipples, tugging lightly, caressing, and eventually he sucked the peak of each breast into his mouth in turn, as she whimpered and held his head to her, wanting more.

More.

God... There was never a time she'd have enough of him...

He licked over her sternum, slicking the skin between her breasts.

"God, Jemma... I love your tits. They're amazing... Honestly... Perfect."

She stretched her arms out above her head, smiling. Then, she nodded, encouraging him with wide eyes, "Then... do it."

He snugged his knees up under her arms on either side of her rib cage, straddling her torso, and she rubbed her fingers over his thighs, before she palmed her breasts and pushed them together, creating a smooth slick channel around his hard cock.

He rutted against her, and her belly fluttered with anticipation, as she watched the pleasure build behind his eyes.

He slid against her, warm and velvety and hard, and she was breathless... watching him... desperate to feel him come apart over her... 

It was sensual and slick, the way he moved against her, and she could see how turned on he was... how much he wanted it... her...

He was looking down at her, watching the way his hard cock moved between her breasts.

Then, he bit his lip, and it was so fucking adorable, she wanted to cry.

"More, Leo... " she whispered, "I want to feel you come."

He moaned, losing his rhythm, losing his control, and she loved every second of it...

Him getting lost in his pleasure.

And as soon as she felt the trickling warmth of his release on her chest and neck, the muscles at her core pulled tight with unbridled lust and want.

She moaned low in her throat, then admitted huskily, "I will never get tired of watching you come... feeling it on my skin... ... or swallowing it down my throat... or, My God, how it feels, when you're buried deep inside me..."

He was still breathless above her, a bit dazed, but he reached down and cradled her face lovingly, his eyes blazing with affection and love.

"That... was amazing... "

He took a few more breaths, before he slid down her over-sensitized body, coming to rest on his elbows, between her thighs.

He gently rubbed his fingers over her, then groaned low in his throat.

His voice was raspy, spent, when he gravelly whispered, "Jem, you're so wet."

She raised herself up on her elbows, and looked down at him through half-closed lids, "Because of you, Leo... Only you can do that to me... "

He lowered his mouth to her clit, and when his tongue made contact with her, she raised her hips up off of the floor, "Fucking God... "

He flicked his slick tongue over her sensitive flesh, and his name fell from her lips as a breathy moan.

She was so turned on that after only a few more swipes, she came hard, the spasms of her orgasm rolling over her like cresting waves, long and forceful and body-wracking.

______

 

After showering together to wash away the sweat and saliva and come, they rested, lovingly tangled up with one another in the center of their bed.

Jemma idly slid her fingertips over the smooth platinum band resting on the third finger of Fitz' left hand, then whispered, "I love you..."

"I love you, too, Jem," leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"And I love our house... "

"Me, too," he agreed.

"Being closer to your mum... "

"Mmhmm," he replied, lazily.

"Really, Leo. This past year has been perfect... our wedding... the move... our new jobs... "

"Jemma, everything we do together has always been pretty damn perfect."

She laughed lightly, "Mmm. You're right, it has."

"Our baby will be amazing," she added, in a soft whisper.

His hand froze where it was drawing designs on her shoulder, and he whispered, "Already?"

She nodded, and smiled, "Mmhmm."

He rolled her onto her back, and rubbed his work-roughened palm over her still-flat belly, looking over her in awe, "But we just started trying."

She laughed. 

"And we've already succeeded," she whispered, sliding her fingers over the scruff along his jaw.

He kissed her senseless, then nuzzled against her throat, speaking softly, just below her ear, his breath tickling over her skin, "These past two years, really have been the best of my life... I-I know that we've been best friends for over a decade now... but everything now, this... it's so much more."

She pulled his face to hers, and kissed him soundly, "Of course it's more... It's us... We'll always be more."


End file.
